


Bored

by CoEnzymeE



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst? no I don't no her, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Body Positivity, Boredom, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has Long Hair (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff and Crack, Gender Confusion, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Ineffable Wives, My First Work in This Fandom, No Angst, One Shot, Post-Apocalypse, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), and Crowley, aziraphale tempts crowley, fem presenting Aziraphale, gender queer, malfunctions, only happy vibes in my fic, sfw, she's smells weird and is clingy please remove her from my leg, so I havent, well Angelic masturbation, you wouldn't want me to write smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 09:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoEnzymeE/pseuds/CoEnzymeE
Summary: Since Armageddoff, Aziraphale was running out of things he want to do. So the angel decided to change things up a lil bit.Basically Aziraphale adopts a female form for reasons, and Crowley has to deal with it. Like the angel's fashion sense, Aziraphale's only impression of women is based off of victorian novels this causes problems.  Also two babes plait each other's hair and be nice and gay.Alternate title a gay feminist is done with all this women can't have body hair bull and so uses Crowley as a self insert.Also I like tiddys don't judge me





	Bored

**Author's Note:**

> No beta we die like men. Also I thought Aziraphale was spelt Aziraphel at the start of writing this, so please excuse any mistakes.

Curiously, Aziraphale squeezed. It squished. It squished a satisfying squish.

The angel had to admit he was confused. As much as he liked his usual form, he found this one equally lovely. But he didn't know where this left him. The angel scrutinised his reflection in the wall length mirror.

He squished the mound again. Not unlike the feeling of a slightly overripe tomato, it wasn't firm - yet not quite soft. Interesting. The angel's hand fell from the breast.

Like his other body this current body was gently sculpted with soft curves, and soft dips, and soft rolls.

Aziraphale smiled at him self in the mirror reminiscing. It had been worth it just to see Crowley's face, still not quite use to a human form, Crowley had kept some serpentine traits. So upon seeing Aziraphale's new look, saying that his jaw hit the floor was more literal than the idiom should have been. He had gaped in shock, jaw unhinging as Aziraphale had to stifle a laugh.

“A-- A? angel? Ngk.” The following confused stutter

“I wanted a change.”

Crowley had, admirably, tried to collect his thoughts and to calm down. “Angel, in the 6,000 years I've known you you've shied away from changing anything if you can help it. Hell/ heaven/ Earth, you've kept the same coat since the 19th century.”

“I was bored.” It was true after the apocalypse there was not much left to do- apart from... Well Aziraphale couldn't** do that** \- so why not play around about with himself?

* * *

Bored.

Aziraphale was again bored now. He cocked his head. Might as well test his handiwork, Aziraphale had spared no effort with the form change.

Like his fashion sense, Aziraphale's perception of femininity was based on Victorian culture. Primary, based of books written by men. Not because the angel was sexist rather these were the majority of books written at the time. This resulted in a less then realistic body image.

Having based his appearance off Victorian novels written by men there were a few biological flaws with his body. On breasts defied gravity and were perfectly symmetrical, two: his vulva was practically hairless, and always wet.

He miracled a bed into the room and retreated onto it.

Aziraphale had never felt the need to- fraternise- with people with vaginas, so didn't have any expectations. He stroked a hand over the comforting round of his stomach to prepare himself and slowly let his fingers brush over his clitorus.

“Oh that was quite nice,” Aziraphale startled himself with his own praise. Then, intrepidly, he circled the organ and felt some previously unused muscles clench in shock.

Then he moved his fingers lower to a portion he had heard more about. Slipping a finger into the vaginal opening he hummed contentedly at the homely warmth of it. Again it was quite nice. But it didn't have the same initial reaction as the clitorus so Aziraphale reposition his hand to that particular excursion. Then with a thought to his foray into a sex store, after all he hadn't not fraternised with anyone, miracled up lube straight into his palm and a vibrator into his other.

Cautiously, he pushed the hood up and position the lubed contraption onto his clit.

“Oh, that's really quite nice” he moaned over the buzzing.

Aziraphale had just moved pasted self consciousness and onto enjoying himself, when a crash sounded below down into the bookshop. “Fuck,” the vibrator switched off immediately as he bolted upright. He had forgotten to close the bookshop. Miracling the mess off him, and half his clothes back on, he desperately hoped he looked decent. Aziraphale raced to his bedroom door.

Grabbing a near by umbrella from a stand by the door, for safety, (completely foregoing the fact he was an ethereal being) Aziraphale then threw the door open. Flying out into the hallway he collided head first into a spiky form.

“CROWLEY! WHAT THE F-” he took a deep breath and disengaged their combined masses, backing away and surreptitiously ensuring the door was closed behind him as he did so. “Crowley dear, what are you doing here?”

Crowley gestured slowly to the bottle in his hand. Rather had been in his hand, then at shock at the collision had been dropped. He then miracled back into hand. Then Crowley took in the state of disarray of his companion and dropped the bottle again. He had never seen Aziraphale without 500 layers of clothing on.

“Good heavens!” Aziraphale squealed, glaring at the mess, when the demon didn't take the hint he looked back up to see the fiend grinning salaciously.

“Don't tell me your hiding anything naughty in there angel?” he went to move towards the door which Aziraphale was splayed against, but was intercepted by an angelic tsk, a tsk that only Aziraphale knew was a little bit of sleight of hand to distract from the surge of energy as Aziraphale miracled away the vibrator and miracled the bed to be made. He opened the door unamused, with cupid bow lips pursed. “Of course not.”

“Hmm... I didn't know you had a bed?” Aziraphale rolled his eyes and was preparing an excuse when he turned back to his companion and only then did he take in the demon's appearance.

He had also feminised his form.

Similar to Nanny Ashtoreth, Crowley had a deep purple lipstick on, Aziraphale somewhat impressed and somewhat unsurprised noted it was the exact shade of the wine currently soaking into his floorboards. Aziraphale widened his eyes pointedly again and even threw in a small pout to just make sure.

Crowley smirked intercepting the angel's thoughts and fixed the poor wine bottle for the second time that night.

Then Aziraphale was beaming at him as only Aziraphale could beam- practically shining with an ethereal light -Crowley wished he had brought his sunglasses. Instead Aziraphale's blue eyes and his glow bore into his golden ones. He had lined them in a thick black eyeliner, red glitter and longer lashes than should be possible, but this did not even begin to protect his eyes.

“Oh Crowley-”

Crowley smirked.

“You look beautiful.”

“Shut it.”

* * *

Aziraphale let himself admire Crowley's hair, it had returned to its beautiful coppery Eden glory he had broken the silence innocently enough “So female?” and so it unbalanced him when the conversation flitted to his fixation. It was as if Crowley had read his mind

“If you can't beat them join them. Anyway you're clearly struggling angel, so I figured how better to relay my hair expertise than to teach you.”

“hair-” Aziraphale repeated lamely fixated again on the wonderful waves. “Wait what's wrong with my hair?”

Crowley, bolstered by the offence on Aziraphale's face, found the courage to seize the angel by the shoulders and pulled him in front of the wall length mirror he had spotted.

“Everythhhhing,” he hissed in the angel's ear. Aziraphale tried very hard to not blush at the proximity, the memory of his previous state of undress here, and how his imagination combined these two things he was trying to ignore.

“It's not that bad,” he sniped in blind defence to the snow blonde curls that had bloomed upwards with his extended length into a very frizzy and a very white attempt of an afro. He ran a hand through his hair and picked up his waistcoat from the floor to shrug it back on nonchalantly. Then as Aziraphale started to look for his jacket, Crowley huffed and sneered unattractively. Annoyed at being ignored he sidled towards the stairs leading back down into the shop, hips moving in their usual serpentine fashion. Aziraphale found his eyes tracked much too keenly on the tight leather trousers, which Crowley normally wore, but found the switch to stiletto heels made Crowley's only plump body part further emphasized. Aziraphale swore it was sinful. But then again he didn't have to answer to heaven now. So he let himself 5 more seconds gazing wistfully.

“You coming, angel?” Aziraphale rolled his eyes at his blush and broke out of his revelry to scuttle after his black clad companion.

That was how Aziraphale found himself half drunk, still horny, and with his head between Crowley's legs... As the demon beratingily braided his hair into a more manageable state. Deft fingers knitted plaits lining the circumference of the angel's crown, incidentally or deliberately (depending on who you were to ask) mirroring a halo. As Crowley applied a chocolate scented gel to the remaining free section to prevent it sticking vertically out to the side of Aziraphale's head the angel had to dig his nails into his thigh to resist the temptation himself keen in back into the demon's soft hands.

Although Aziraphale's hair was much shorter than his, if he straightened it, it would be an off shoulder bob, Crowley insisted (with not much resistance from the angel) that Aziraphale practise the style on his hair.

After muttering his annoyance Crowley managed to push his back through the wall of tan layers that made up the ridiculously bulky petticoats Aziraphale was wearing to rest his head on his lap.

He groaned again, glaring at the angel who was stoically ignoring his gaze by staring fixedly at the blank TV screen in front of them.

“It might help you to plait hair, if you actually look at it.”

“Oh right, of course dear, sorry.” Sheepishly Aziraphale turned his eyes to his hands trying to stop his eyes shining too brightly in excitement. In the background the TV switched itself on, to show an old episode of Tom and Jerry just as the cartoon cat was spectacularly smashing his head in wall.

“Aziraphale.”

“Right,” gently he laid his hands on Crowley's soft locks, “like that?”

Crowley ngk-ed and closed his eyes on instinct, “You remember what I did?” He hissed, somehow turning every letter into an “S”

Slowly, Aziraphale started once steadying himself after the initial shock of joy. He had touched Crowley's hair before, obviously, just not so deliberately and for such a long period. Even the half hoped, Crowley seemed to reciprocating his joy at the procedure.

Angel's have nearly perfect memories and so with only a few hiccups Aziraphale plaited Crowley's hair. After getting one half done, the registered a strange snuffling coming from Crowley. After blinking puzzled blue eyes at his acquaintance Aziraphale realised with shock that he was snoring.

He “Awwwed” before he could stop himself. After a moment of besottedly gazing at the man, he pulled his eyes upwards to the screen in which a fat white cat was lovingly pawing at Tom. He finished the hairstyle whilst watching the cartoon. Then he had finished. Crowley was still asleep.

Aziraphale let his hands linger one selfish moment more in Crowley's hair, oh how he loved it the silky flames that cascade down his neck always perfect waves glinting in the ever present light that seemed to surround him, even on the cloudiest rainiest London day Aziraphale could have sworn Crowley's hair was still bathed in sunlight. Then wrenching himself out of his admiration, lest Crowley awoke, Aziraphale debated what to do.

He bit his lip and decided. Hoisting the demon into a bridal position Aziraphale stood up, easily taking the lithe form with him. His breasts bounced annoyingly against his friend, his waistcoat (a gift from Oscar Wilde that brought in Aziraphale's waist and extenuated his hips) though much more fitted to the female form than his usual one still offered no hindrance to his bouncing accessories, and bras were superfluous to Victorian men. Basing your look on descriptions from sexually frustrated straight men seemed to have a few flaws after all. Aziraphale kept moving ignoring the over excited movement of his tits and hoping Crowley couldn't feel the cushions assaulting his form.

However whilst his own were annoying, Aziraphale felt his mind wander to Crowley's. As he walked his friend towards the bed room Aziraphale felt himself sinfully wondering whether like the rest of Crowley, his breasts were pointy. He certainly looked triangular. Aziraphale shook his gaze away from the semi see threw black lace shirt Crowley was wearing as his eyes started to focus on a dark nipple, aghast at his own pervy nature. Fixing his gaze forward Aziraphale finished the rest of the walk in a meditative state.

After ensuring the bed was fully clean, Aziraphale practically flung Crowley on the bed and backed himself into a chair to breath, horrified In his sleep Crowley huffed affronted at the sudden impact, but quickly splayed out in all directions and wormed his way under the sheets. Aziraphale had just got his breath back in order before laughing lightly at his companion's theatrics. He miracled a blanket and quickly tucked Crowley in, before returning to his seat. He smiled fondly at the slumbering form and wished him happy dream.

Lingering a bit longer he checked his own hair in the mirror and smiled fonder still, it did look considerably better. Then he left, before he did something stupid.

* * *

When Crowley awoke, he kept his eyes shut for a number of reasons: he knew he was safe, it was warm, he was hung over, his eyelids felt unnaturally heavy, and most importantly where ever he was, the air tasted deliciously booky and whilst he pretended he was asleep he could dream guiltlessly of a certain booky someone- no-one could blame the subconscious.

At the sound of a yelp, he peeled his eyes open, frowned at the bright light in the room, miracled away his head ache and gagged slightly at the dry bitter taste in his mouth. Miracling some new clothes he noted his female form and opted for a leather corset, suspenders and some shorts so small most people would just call them knickers. He frowned at his reflection in the mirror, why his eyes had been so heavy made sense now, he changed the make up to a more down low look of black smokey eyes that faded into his eyebrows and bright 1950s red lipstick.

Then he remembered where he was, switched his corset to a knee length queen top and scuttled to wards the sauce of the yelp fearing that perhaps his angel was compromised.

Crowley staggered instead of walked, and snarled at the sensation he hated.

Crowley's feminisation hadn't gently smoothed his features like Aziraphale's had. Instead of softening his jawline had become a more defined point and if possible his cheekbones were more defined. In contrast to Aziraphale he was very much still linear. Crowley was so averse to curves in his physique that one would not expect from a being that spent a lot of his time in snake coils. Crowley could not fathom the appeal of having large bags of fat flapping about on his chest and so didn't, his top stretched tightly over the mammary glands which had minimal amounts of packaging. He made a formidable yet gorgeous woman.

Stopping just behind the open door, he adjust his shirt and switch his hurried walk (run) into his typical sashay. Then he sauntered around the door. Prepared for anything.

Anything- except an angel with the endless layers of his skirt hiked up around his ears whilst he nursed a shaving wound on his lovably thick shin.

“Aziraphale-” Crowley's mouth was still dry and as he swallowed in shock, the angel interjected with

“Oh! Crowley, dear, you're awake.”

Crowley strutted forward trying not to glare.

“What the hell are you doing?”Aziraphale's hair-

Crowley loved Aziraphale's hair.

“Shaving?” the angel sat up a bit straighter a baffled expression gracing his face.

“WHY?” Crowley knew he was screaming, he also knew he was overacting, but more than anything he knew that Aziraphale's hair was one of the best things he had ever seen and removing any of it even if it was just his leg hair should still be a sin. A blessing?

Either way Crowley was affronted and Aziraphale should most definitely stop it right now.

Aziraphale struggled with the next sentence as not only had he lost his confidence due to the demon's sudden rage, but also because now that he thought about it it slowly dawned upon him the logic behind his reasoning was pretty thin.

“It's a womanly thing to do?” his voice faulted as Crowley hissed angerly.

“Okay.” Crowley took a steadying breath? “Look aziraphale,” he sighed with the un-surmountable contempt of a man talking to the ridiculous love of his life - “I thought you of anybody would like having leg hair,” throwing caution out the window, knowing that it could be the last time, Crowley reached out and stroked the angel's shin, “It would be you.” Shocked doe eyes met his “I've always thought the little hair felt like angel feathers.”

Aziraphale who was bright red, placed his hand next to Crowley's and tickled his own pale downy hairs.

“hmm,” he supplied unconvinced, sure it was vaguely homely but-

Crowley keeping up the momentum of his stupidity filed confidence struck a bare leg out.

“Do you even know what a shaved leg feels like?”

A snake.

Aziraphale reached out looking vaguely hypnotised and let his hand roam across the new, previously forbidden, expanse of Crowley.

Crowley malfunctioned.

* * *

When he came back online he realised “Across” had somehow now turned to “Up”and that Aziraphale's hand had found its way to the top of Crowley's thigh.

He swallowed his hope, figuring Aziraphale had also apparently broken he spat out a grating comment to save his friend from embarrassment.

“Careful there, if you weren't an angel people would think you were trying to tempt me,”

Aziraphale looked up from his hand resting on Crowley's thigh for his gaze to stop startled in front of Crowley's crouch.

“I-”

Crowley wasn't jealous of how Aziraphale was staring with wide innocent blue eyes at his female form. That would be stupid even for him. He was just growing tired of having to sacks of fat hanging off his chest. Which was obviously why he miracled himself back to normal. The shirt also disappeared through no fault of his own. The panties of his corset stretched tight over his effort and Aziraphale made an interesting mewling sound in surprise.

Somewhat heated Crowley had to steal himself so not to hiss at the angel, “Anyway, as I was saying 'men'” he sneered the word “can also shave their legs.”

Aziraphale followed suit reverting back to his usual form still at eye level with Crowley's erection.

Crowley watched the angel's face as he blinked as if he had just regained his vision.

“Crowley-” he said reverently, and Crowley's ego began to glow and his mind whooped joyfully at how successful when was glowing until he heard something like a laugh come from the angel and in annoyance felt the comforting warm presence of his hand leave his thigh as Aziraphale politely covered his laughter. The bastard.

Aziraphale was still struggling to control his giggles, “Of course I see now. And dear, “ Aziraphale breathed deeply and took in the affronted expression of his associate. “how terribly rude of me, you do understand I wasn't laughing at you.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes but didn't feel the need to supply him with the response.

“You see I've been rather silly.”  
Crowley's annoyance immediately dissolved at the irrefutable adorableness of a 6,000 year old entity still feeling the need to use the infinitesimal “silly”

“Hmm?”

“i- ah,” Aziraphale stood up dropping the razor, “you see-”

“Spit it out” whilst Crowley was primarily just confused, there was the sneaky resurgence at that start of hope that the angel may like him.

The angel huffed at the interruption but still chose to step forward closing the gap between him and trespassing into Crowley's personal space bubble,

“I didn't actually want to change dear, I just thought that maybe you would perhaps, like me better if I looked different. But I see now you've always”  
“I like you -

you like me?” Crowley interjected coherently.

“Dear I love you, I thought you knew.”

Crowley turned bright red.

“But then I didn't know you felt the same way, so I can hardly blame you. “

Crowley decided to abandon the failure of communication that was talking and so instead relayed his feelings by clumsily grabbing at Aziraphale's face and kissing him.

* * *

Later, much later, when the only light in the bathroom came from the angel's besotted smile and London let its self become consumed by the night, Crowley pulled himself out of the simple kiss.

“You're an idiot Aziraphale.”

“Hmm?”

“You thought I prefer the female body?”


End file.
